Ignis Fatuus
by Funeral.Bell
Summary: Gold wanted to clear the reputation against hypno, not become its next meal. As a gym leader it was Morty's obligation to save him, but it was not his intention nine years later to become frustrated Gold was confessing to some hostile redhead. —Goldenaurashipping
1. Rewind

**A/N**: I think Gold might be my most favorite uke if I keep pairing him in these shippings nobody (;_;) writes about. There's a reason when I posted this it didn't say complete. I hope this very cruddy two-parter (which was originally a one-shot) will inspire some MortyxGold fics out there (or ProtonxGold, either one works~) so I hope you enjoy. My apologies for any mistakes you see. :x  
>As for ages…Gold is seven in this first part, sixteen in the next. Since there are many young gym leaders, Morty is seventeen, in the next part he's twenty-six. :y I was actually going for twenty-four but went like, "Meh."<br>**Extra note**: Ghost type are bullies. They like mischief. That's my picture of them, so I tried. Neo Team Rocket does not exist. And I haven't read the Adventures manga in ages, I totally forgot about Morty's ability. (I know some things are inaccurate, but I really didn't want everything to be technical) Because apparently he's able to see things in the distance, so I used that and seeing in the future a bit (which may or may not be true, but I'm done with this I don't even want to bother correcting. :U)  
><strong>Summary<strong>: Gold wanted to clear the reputation against hypno, not become its next meal. As a gym leader it was Morty's obligation to save him, but it was_ not_ his intention nine years later to become frustrated Gold was confessing to some hostile redhead. —Goldenaurashipping  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING AND NEVER WILL. SADNESS. CRIES. -gets distracted by 3DS- n.n

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><p><em><strong>ι<strong>_ g и ι ѕ_** f**_ α т υ υ ѕ

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><p>|◄◄|<em> Nine Years Ago<em>

As Gold's mother she would huff an exhausted sigh when her seven year-old son would run around in a crazed sugar rush—often she scolded him to keep his hands away from the cookie jar, somehow the energetic amber-eyed boy would find every hiding place regardless of her efforts—patiently she waited in the sanctuary of her kitchen for the energy stored inside her son's body to die down for the day. The boy would fall in his bed, tiredly rubbing his eyes, curling up in a ball and stuffing a finger in his mouth, his mother's lips would twitch upwards in a warm, motherly smile. Like usual she expected her son to be jumping on the bed, attempting to touch the ceiling with his stubby fingers, or a bright colored marker in his hands scribbling nonsensical doodles on the walls, with a sense of dread she peeked inside her son's room.

She repressed the surprised gasp almost escaping her chapped lips, her large ebony eyes spotting her seven year-old child resting on his pokéball streaked bed sheets, his legs swinging back and forth aimlessly, a hand under his chin, his other hand flipping through pages of a yellowing, bind-tattered encyclopedia. It was her encyclopedia she bought as a student in trainer school—she modestly blushed, recalling how _long ago _since her trainer days…—and taking the responsibility of motherhood much later, she hardly gave the book a second glance. Who was she to bother Gold? He would normally be jumping on his bed until the posts began to creak from the abuse. The peace was almost unworldly that it made her sigh contently; she retreated away from the door, shrugging as she accepted the steel tray of warm milk and sugar-free cookies for herself.

Gold flipped dreamily through the sketched images of pokémon—he frowned momentarily when both text and image were close to fading, or when he skipped through pages to find several sheets stuck together or torn completely from the binding—admiring the fully evolved form of the three common starters of Johto, especially typhlosion. His stubby childish fingers traced the faint outline of the fire pokémon artwork, its arms bared mightily, its pose featured as if was roaring with all its might, the background colored in red streaks that he presumed were wispy flame-like designs. Giving his attention span for books, which he rarely touched if ever, he skimmed through the pages categorized by different element types. The bug type pokémon ran a shudder down his spine, his lithe body shivering when his amber eyes fell on the sketch of beedrill. Poison, he reasoned, was a frightening factor for bug pokémon.

He quickly glanced at the pidgey wall clock: half an hour before his bedtime. His finger flipped the pages; he hurried his pace before stopping on the ghost section of encyclopedia: his large eyes fixated on the sketch of gastly patrolling a dark grassy area, its trademark smile flashing its small, razor sharp fangs. Gold giggled childishly reading about its body composition, he could easily blow the pokémon away if he felt threatened and avoid the possibility of being engulfed by its poison, but the more he read about the ghost type the more he felt slightly apprehensive the temperature of his room would drop, signaling the presence of a ghost pokémon. He shook his head stubbornly, _I'm a brave boy!_ he repeated in his head as an encouraging mantra.

Gold nodded eagerly, flipping through the pages before he skipped over the ice types completely, his hand stiffened when he reached a very obscure picture surprisingly still preserved on the page. The text was more faded than the other pages he had passed; rather than a full-body sketch the particular pokémon on the page was shadowed almost completely. The ring-tuff around its neck appeared like some form of collar, the faint coloring of yellow—Gold assumed it might have been a nose—its human-like fingers holding a pendulum lightly colored in. The setting was eerie for the pokémon: a dark background, the sky colored the darkest purple, the shading of swaying trees rocking, but the intensity of the hollow expression in its faintly drawn eyes nearly ran shudder down his spine. He blinked, cleared his throat, and drew his attention on the legible bits of text.

_"If you lock eyes with it, it will try to hypnotize you. It is best to close your eyes quickly before you get hypnotized."_

His eyes widened.

_"It carries a pendulum-like device. There once was an incident in which it took away a child it hypnotized."_

"Pfft, this is so full of lies!" he snorted. The pokémon had a terrible reputation, and Gold felt the need to clear its name. The encyclopedia was tearing apart; there were always new yearly editions: the information had to be faulty, he reasoned.

Even though the pidgey clock was going to hoot to indicate his bedtime—his ten o'clock bedtime—he would have to wait until midnight before his mother slipped away from the television and its awful nightly soap operas she was always fond of. Once she was asleep in her bed, there was nothing that could wake her up. Absolutely nothing.

Perfect.

Gold prepared his backpack for the meantime: he zipped up his red and white sweater, slipped on his black shorts, strapped on his sneakers—he has yet to learn to tie his shoelaces, his fingers constantly stumbling around looping the knots properly—a flashlight, and packed an extra pair of undergarments, specifically his blue undies with pikachu's head printed in diagonal rows, sparks of electricity surrounding the red spots on its cheeks. The boy frowned, failing to see his gold and black cap, instead opting for the hood of his red sweater. He forced his eyelids to remain open rather than fluttering down slowly and tiredly, his mind screaming for few minutes' worth of sleep, the pidgey clock nearly indicated midnight—

footsteps padded across the hallway, a door creaking as it was being closed shut.

Time to make his getaway!

He was skittering downstairs, immediately running into the fridge to secure several snacks in the smallest baggie of his backpack; excitedly he closed the front door behind him, meeting the nightly life of remote town of New Bark. He trekked into the field of tall grass, lacking a pokémon at his age served as the greatest disadvantage against the outside world in such condition, to turn ten and claim his first pokémon was going to become a dream come true – his animated thoughts came close to distracting his priority for night. He clapped his hands on his cheeks to direct his focus on the hooting hoot-hoot perched on the branch of a tree, staring him down with their gleaming eyes, his legs trembling from the gust of wind sweeping past his exposed legs.

Having never stepped outside during the darkening hours, he could hardly compare the nightly breeze to that of the morning breeze, the windmills situated around the small town swiftly spinning from the breezy wisp of winds enclosing the field and the town. The white collar adorning the pokémon, as he recalled from the sketch, would serve as a distinctive marker to track the pokémon, he would then return home before his mother woke up in the early morning and probably publish—like the essays and articles Professor Elm published throughout the years—an eye-witness report on his encounter with a hypno. That amount of fame could gain him pokédollars, pokédollars could earn him buckets of coins to spend at Goldenrod's Game Corner on the weekends…and he would be able to clear hypno's name, of course…

He reached further into the field, startled every so often when a nocturnal pokémon would scramble past his feet or whiz past his head, like the hoot-hoot, until he stopped deadpanned.

Gold had no idea where a hypno could be found in Johto's vast land. His previous excitement reading about the pokémon's biography in the encyclopedia had him overlook the most important piece of information – he turned on the heel of his foot, squinting he could see the faint white dot in the distance that was his house.

_Shoot…_

Turn back? Face another night without sleep? Prolong the hypno's bad name to be written in books because he failed to pinpoint the location of the pokémon on the map? He was a boy filled with dreams of journeying; a minor wrinkle in his courageous nightly adventure would not make him return to his house. Besides, he mused thoughtfully; his mother would wring his neck if she caught him during her nightly bathroom breaks.

Gold valued his life. His mother saw through his lies. He would be grounded _forever._

Which means he won't have his cookies delivered to him room anymore.

The color on his face visibly whitened. _The horror!_

Throughout his tantrums—the nocturnal pokémon questioned the sanity of the many reactions flickering on Gold's face—he spotted out of the corner of his eyes an abra feeding on a berry tree, its hooked-like claws ripping several oran berries tipped on the thick tree branches. He read alone the lines of abra's teleportation capabilities; the yellow creature was ravenously feeding on the berries to detect the boy creeping behind it discreetly. Holding his breath, Gold walked closer, also recalling that once the psychic pokémon detected his presence for even a split second it would teleport without warning.

Rather than approaching from the side of the abra feeding, Gold had securely pounced on the small pokémon, his small hands firmly latched on the abra's tail.

Both pokémon and child teleported.

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><p>Morty shook his head, his hand gripping his head from the abrupt flurry of images invading his mind without warning. Ever since he was gifted as a child with clairvoyance he made it his responsibility to oversee Ecruteak's safety. But in the darkening night hanging on the rural area, Morty and his pokémon lingered in the Burned Tower, complying to his pokémon's entertainment rather than earning a restful night for the possible upcoming gym battles the next morning. He would kick aside the timber in the blackened ashy pile, forming a safe mound for him to sit while his pokémon eagerly roamed the abandoned tower: well, only the ghost pokémon and poison types remained in the historical tower, the other pokémon remained in the fields in their new shelter than the refuge of the shoddy burnt remains of the Tower.<p>

His purple eyes peered forward; lightly he smiled to reassure Gastly hovering beside him, an evident amount of concern on its regularly grinning face.

Gengar reappeared to the surface from the mass black puddle entity hiding in the scorched hardwood floor, it tilted its head curiously, devious smile intact.

Regaining his composure with a quiet cough, he bent his knees to reach Gengar's level. "I need you to search route thirty-seven for a boy before he comes in contact with hypno. Cloak yourself in the shadows."

Gengar nodded, it raised its stubby arms upwards, jumped up, and then its entire body dissolved in the shadows of the floor.

The mass of purple-black entity was gone in a blink.

Morty adjusted the blue band around his head before nodding at Gastly, the pair rushing past the thick mounds of ash and broken beams of wood to reach the field in time.

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><p>Gold wiped off the oran berry's juice the abra smashed underneath his left eye with his sleeve, irritably he scanned his surroundings, as if expecting to be telported no farther than Cherrygrove's fields, yet the tall trees surrounding the forest blocked any traces of city nightlife. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his body trembling from the colder temperature flooding the air – he bit his bottom lip, hoping with every fiber of his soul a ghost pokémon would not lick or steal his soul away for a feast. Gold's trembling fingers made it difficult to grip the small zipper, his head whipped in every direction as he heard the bushes rustling, the trees swaying, nocturnal pokémon growling or cawing.<p>

He hurriedly fished the neon-green flashlight from his backpack, his hand shaking from the cold and fear running through his small body – what he would do to be in his bed, what he would do to be in the safety of his mother's _arms._ He exhaled heavily from his nose, gathering his wits he strapped the backpack on his shoulder, his flashlight striking several patches of grass whenever he heard even the slightest scuttling noise from the grasslands. A stantler appeared from behind the trees, its black eyes boring holes on the child staring at it curiously, and with disinterest it walked across the small boy to jump into another maze of trees.

Gold's heartbeat was thumping madly in his chest, he laughed nervously to lessen the tension in the atmosphere, as well as to actually encounter a stantler of all pokémon: he heard recounts of trainers having a tedious time capturing a stantler in a pokéball; the beast had a knack for escaping. Gold felt a chill, oddly not from a rush of wind or anything of the sort, but he felt paranoid he was being watched.

His light centered on a glittering object from the distance, excitedly he rushed past the dark maze of trees to flash his light on the glimmering object again. Amber eyes screwed shut, momentarily blinded by the reflection of the light hitting his eyes before opening them slowly to examine the object.

"Hyyppno."

The flashlight fell from Gold's loosened grip.

Hypno's—the pokémon evidently identified by reciting its name as most pokémon were only capable of doing—squinted eyes observed the fear-struck child, its finger toying with the pendulum rocking left and right monotonously. The pokémon's structure made it appear like a deformed human without a mouth, and although he knew he was here to clear hypno's name, Gold could feel his blood running cold staring at the black irises gazing at him with a sickly fascination.

"Uh-Uhm. I…I'm Gold! And I-I wanted to…"

Hypno beckoned the child with a yellow, human-like finger.

"I…I'm good right here…" Amber eyes parted from the yellow creature, he was fully absorbed with a newfound interest to see the blades of grass trampled under his sneakers.

Biggest mistake.

Hypno called again, out of reflex Gold tipped his head to engage direct eye contact.

Three seconds was all it took for the amber eyes to be drained completely, leaving him a hollow and listless expression.

Gold stepped forward, his conscious departed from Hypno's masterful hypnotism, the pokémon far too hungry to have the child fall asleep. Hypno would feast on the dreams, but a new taste would be for the boy to struggle against his hypnotic self: its hunger was a priority, for all it knew its feast would become a hollow shell that could only breathe.

Hypno came close to luring Gold into its homemade abode; from the distance a large ball of darkness blasted the psychic user off its feat, it squawked pathetically in agonizing pain. Gold's shadow was used as a destination for a gengar to appear, the plump purple creature hastily formed another ball of concentrated darkness to finish off the disadvantaged yellow struggling to regain its stance.

"Gen, gen. Gengar?" the ghost pokémon cooed wickedly. _'A curse, a curse. What curse shall I place?'_ It released its shadow ball, chuckling ominously to the harmonic melody of the hypno's pitiful groans.

Gold consciousness returned, he squeaked baring witness to a gengar raising its arms in the air, its hex attack scaring him out of its wits from the gleaming red eye forming in the middle of the attack. For an attack to feature an eye was disturbing enough, and it took him a few seconds later to realize he had nearly become the meal of a hungry hypno for the night. He was seven years old, was almost (mentally) eaten, and encountered a gengar notorious for causing schemes and stealing the life force of living beings.

Gold's eyes brimmed with hot, salty tears.

He cried: scared, lost, alone, he cried harder nobody would ever find him to save him. If falling meal to a hypno had not traumatized enough, he was sure the gengar attacking the other pokémon brutally would do the deed.

Hypno retreated reluctantly, all its attacks had little to no affect, and gengar was a difficult pokémon to lull to sleep, even with the help of its pendulum. It was necessary for a pokémon or any creature to remain motionless for the three necessary seconds; gengar would easily disappear in the darkness before it could be lured into a never-awakening sleep. Gengar turned, frowned, its hands scratching its bulgy body uncomfortably.

The ghost pokémon warily approached the boy, however it stopped midway, startled when the sobs became ear-splittingly loud enough it backed away instantly. Gold frantically crawled backwards, screaming at the top of his lungs for the pokémon to keep its distance. Gengar closed its eyes for a brief moment to collect its patience, reopened them the next moment, relieved beyond words Morty called out to it even if he was nearly out of breath himself. Gengar shrugged when Morty's purple irises gave it a pointed look, as if expecting Gengar to confess it was at fault the small boy was reduced to a fetal position.

Gastly, accompanied by Haunter, were released from their pokéballs to search for Gengar in the field. Having noticed the other presence besides themselves and their trainer, the pair began to prod in Gold's personal space.

Gold shrieked detecting their presence, their ghostly bodies nearing his body.

Morty rolled his eyes at his deviously snickering ghost pokémon, "You guys are such bullies, I swear." The blonde scooped Gold's trembling body off the grass, he blinked absently as Gold quickly wrapped his arms around the gym leader's neck, his small fingers gripping the fabric of his blue shirt for dear life. Morty sighed in relief the boy in his arms was saved—and horrified all at the same time by the mere prospect having _another_ incident spreading like wildfire in Ecruteak—by Gengar. The elderly women in the town shared the story of the disappearance of a child that alarmed all the gym leaders, Morty was blissfully unaware considering he was still a young boy at the time but the story circulated throughout the region to the point he thought he would never hear the end of it…

Morty's arms were wrapped securely on the lithe body-

and one arm was strangely warmer than the other…

He groaned silently, his blue sleeve darkening from a large patch of wetness that cushioned the ebony haired boy's thighs and bottom. Morty followed Gengar's previous actions: breathing in deeply, closing his eyes to relieve the minor headache forming.

_He did not just wet himself. He did not just wet himself._

Gengar, Haunter, and Gastly roared in a gale of laughter.

* * *

><p>Blue shirt crinkled.<p>

A sleeve moist with urine.

A night interrupted by a child's curiosity.

Morty was fortunate to have the patience of a saint.

The blonde man seated himself on his round wicker chair, the muscles on his legs tightening from the stress of running: it was a tiring night, he felt accomplished he saved someone from a hypno, it boggled his mind envisioning himself arriving later than he had. The old story took years to absolutely silence in the small, gossiping city of Ecruteak—the residents were old, without much strength left in their weary bodies all they had left was gossip in their monotonous lives—now as a gym leader, Morty wanted to avoid having another chilling story weighing the city for the next several years. Soothingly he patted the sobbing child in his arms—his pokémon observing their trainer from the opposite side of the room—his fingers running through the shaggy ebony hair matted with a thin layer of sweat.

Gold quieted down eventually, his fists wiping the excess amount of tears slithering from the corner of his eyes. He found himself blushing madly at the scratch marks on his savior's collarbones: while walking into his home, Gold felt himself slipping away from the comforting arms, in a frenzy he latched on without realizing his nails dug into the pale skin. The last thing on his mind was his location; he was more concerned about his backpack, the time…

"Have you calmed down?"

Said boy rested his chin on Morty's shoulder, nodding.

"Your name?" he asked patiently.

"G-Gold…" he answered shyly, fidgeting in the gym leader's grasp, "'m sorry about your shirt…umm…?"

Morty chuckled airily. "Morty. And it's fine," the fingers raking through the tousled black hair departed—much to Gold's dismay, although he would never admit it—and rather tipped the boy's chin up, "where do you live, Gold? Your parents should have noticed-"

Gold adverted his eyes from the purple irises, he rested his amber orbs on his fumbling fingers restlessly twiddling, "New Bark…"

The ghost pokémon lingering in the background did a double take; Morty suppressed the urge to bury his face in his hands.

The blonde's smile visibly faltered, he certainly only foretold the events of Gold succumbing to the hypno's hypnosis, he was completely unaware how the little boy had found himself in Ecruteak's forest and not in the remote town of New Bark.

Gold sensed the faintly visible changes in the gym leader's expression, "An abra teleported me," he said slowly, pausing thoughtfully before continuing. "I grabbed its tail…it left me behind and hit me with an oran berry…"

The trio snorted, they mused on with their own affairs after Morty regarded them with a glare. Gold pushed Morty's hand away, his mouth quivering and incapable of forming words to clear the evident fear paling his sun-kissed skin. Morty lifted Gold's body briefly, he turned the boy sharply to face the three ghost pokémon, then seated Gold back on his lap to continue focusing on the ghostly trio rather than him.

Morty stretched his arms under Gold's arm, subtly calling Gastly to hover over. The trio exchanged looks of mingled curiosity and concern—they may have received a good amount of amusement from their presence evoking fear in the small human, however they preferred not having to agonize over a child's bloodcurdling screams—Gastly accepted its trainer's silent demand, its gaseous body resting in the blonde's hands. Gold was shifting restlessly, as is trying to back away, his hands desperately searching for a vice grip.

"You have nothing to fear," _Well, except their curses, _"my pokémon are harmless. They are just a bunch of pranksters, as most ghost pokémon are. Here, hold Gastly."

Gold reluctantly extended his hands outwards, his fingers pressing on the ball of blackness that composed the ghostly pokémon's body, to his surprise he felt the roundness was lightly solid rather than…squishy. The change of atmosphere had Gold's frown disappear completely, it was replaced with a widening grin playing with the pokémon in his hands, Gengar and Haunter quickly joined the energetic mood of their new playmate.

Gold hopped off Morty's lap, giggling loudly as Haunter's floating hands were swaying his nearly weightless body off the floor, swinging him back and forth. Feeling accomplished, the blonde relaxed on the wicker chair, closing his eyes in relief he not only saved Gold but made one more person in Johto unafraid of ghost. He yawned tiredly; he planned to rub his tired eyes but stopped: the stench invaded his nostrils, he retracted his hand immediately.

When Morty left the comfort of his seat for the bathroom, Gold rushed for his backpack to toss aside his shorts and underwear for the pikachu printed undergarment, he was feeling self-conscious enough to be playing in soaked pants. His eyelids grew heavy despite having the only thrill trying to search Gengar's hiding spots amongst the furniture's shadows, finally exhausted he settled between the ghostly trio. Gold's back was supported by Gengar, his head resting on Haunter, his arms coiling around Gastly…

Morty returned, absently wiping the moist sleeve with a rag, unable to hide the earnest smile gracing his lips discovering his pokémon snoozing beside the sleeping child.

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><p>By the next morning, Morty awoke with a start—reality slowly steeped in: he slept through the night on the wicker chair—he could have sworn his heart stopped as he spotted his pokémon outside.<p>

Haunter hovered in the air, the other two following close, with a giggling Gold—in his underwear no less—in its ghostly hold. If Haunter were to loosen its grip, even in the slightest…

Morty stormed to the window, ordering loudly enough to be heard for the trio to deliver Gold back inside the house. The three rolled their eyes, as if to say, 'Tch. Kill joy.'

While scouting the city for someone willing to lend Ecruteak's gym leader an abra—he went alone to search. He was surprised he was not scolded by the elderly morning risers who could have noticed his pokémon and Gold earlier, he would never hear the end of it about his trio holding a boy in his underwear recklessly in the air—Morty restlessly stole a glance at the town clock. The longer it took to return Gold home, the longer a parent would have to worry: Gold was of no help either, confessing pathetically he has yet to memorize the number to his mother's pokégear.

Sure enough he found himself an abra, feeling rather awkward confronting Gold's sobbing mother rather disturbed her son was returned in his just his sweater and underwear. Gold remained uninterested, busily munching on the snacks he packed yesterday night, groaning in his mother's tightening embrace made it difficult to swallow his food.

The pokémon ghost trio—their sudden presence startled Gold's mother—frowned, disappointed their playmate was leaving them.

"Say thank you to the nice gym leader, hunny."

Gold deadpanned. _Gym leader?_ Somehow he was always to preoccupied to distinguish the gym leaders of Johto, his attention more focused on the pokémon. His mother discreetly pinched her son's shoulder, forcing an apology outright.

"Now say goodbye, sweetie."

Gold shook his head violently, "No! No! I wanna see Morty again, momma!" To prove his unyielding selfish request, he small hands clung to the fabric of Morty's blue shirt, face hidden from view.

Morty pried Gold away, the blonde petting the messy black hair affectionately, reassuring the boy he was fully welcomed to visit as often as he wanted and whenever he wanted. It was strange impulse Gold could never describe – he hugged the blonde man showering him with kindness, he hardly expected for Morty to return the hug.

He did.

And that was the moment Gold fell completely and hopelessly in love.

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><p>Gold's visit became so frequent that the citizens of Ecruteak became familiar with his name and face; they would pass him with hearty chortle and ask, "Here for Morty?" Gold would respond with an enthusiastic nod, his smile bashfully stretching to cover the embarrassing traces of pink shading his cheeks.<p>

It was not long until Morty gave Gold the key to his home: he felt guilty during the harsh winter nights Gold would be huddled on the doorstep of his house, shivering, red at the nose, offering him a warming smile to welcome his return.

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><p><strong>AN**: This is broken into two parts. I was planning a one-shot, then I noticed I was reaching over 10,00+ words. ._. I was like, "Lololol NO." :T Next update should be tomorrow or sunday. The next part features Morty in his HG/SS wear. :v


	2. Play

|►►| _Present_

"Oh my! Is that a_ love_ letter, sweetheart?"

"Mom, _go away!_" Gold groaned sourly, he ducked his head and covered the sheet of paper with his hands. It was a silly little notion over the years: he needed to write whatever bothered him on paper; anything formed in words would end as nonsensical rambling. When he confessed to Morty—although every time he felt the opportunity was wrapped around his little finger he ended up turning red, squirming under the gym leader's fixated stare—he ended up steering the conversation to something completely unrelated, then he would return home disappointed but relieved. If anything, despite all these years, Gold began visiting less than the previous years.

He was oblivious whether his frequent meetings were becoming an inconvenience. Gold sighed, carelessly flinging the pencil in his abused steel mesh pencil cup—thankful his mother did indeed leave—and leaned back on his chair, his fingers running through his shaggy black hair. He felt like a _sap, _his time generally spent carelessly in Goldenrod shortened every month, his time occupied training with his pokémon and the daycare offspring had kept his mind clear of all the gushed up emotions welling inside him. Hell, he even managed to befriend the nasty personality of the redhead throughout the years, yet he never expected his friendship with Silver would ever reach that pinnacle of becoming "best friends" – the title made him cringe.

It was Silver that helped him maintain the last bit of sanity, his natural realist commentary—although rude on many occasions, not that Gold paid any mind anymore—kept Gold's head fixed on reality rather than on cloud nine. The perky amber-eyed teen's attention would gradually ebb away, his dreamy-like gaze radiating a warm blush rushing on his cheeks and ears, but one snarky comment from Silver was all it took for Gold to return his attention on the moody silver-eyed redhead. Gold focused his awareness on the paper abused with crinkles and pencil scratched words, he had nothing to brag about his writing considering his penmanship was bordering from terrible to illegible according to Silver.

_It's not a love letter though! Well, it kinda sorta almost isn't._

Being prepared for that 'one moment' needed to be in words despite the possibility of the worst-case scenario: rejection. Hopefully it would be laid down in the kindest or tactful manner possible; it would relieve Gold if their connection became strained or awkward. He was certain his meeting with Morty would be lesser than usual, if it worsen he would simply never visit Ecruteak ever again.

Easier said than done.

"Aghh!" he moaned from his uncomforting frustration, his head hitting a corner of the keyboard and desk. Gold had to swallow the fact Morty was getting more…attractive. The blonde man matched the darkness and murkiness appeal of his gym to his clothes—which weren't exactly murky although it matched with the gym's image perfectly—the black turtleneck, the white jeans, the blue band around his head replaced by a purple band, a decorative insignia clipped on the flowing purple scarf with its hem dyed in a wispy red dye.

If it were not for his encounter with a hypno, Gold would have never personally greeted Morty so early, which means he would have no reason to develop an infuriating fascination for nine years. Gold banged his head repeatedly, contemplating whether he should jump out his window while he still had the chance:

Morty saved him from a hypno that scared the living daylights out of him enough to soil his pants in urine. He could barely defend himself from a hypno, no less fend off the power of its pendulum to silence him into a state of nothingness. If that wasn't bad enough Gold recalled playing to his heart's content in his embarrassingly old pikachu-printed underwear while Morty momentarily watched his guest and pokémon fully absorbed in their own amusement.

Gold would admit one thing though: at least he had a shred of dignity left to continuously visit the ghost-using gym leader. The teen rose from his chair, crumbled the paper in his fist before shoving the sheet in his pocket, with a sigh he reached for his sling backpack.

By the next hour he reached the little quaint city of Cherrygrove, he past the Pokémon Center but stopped abruptly at the entrance of the Pokémon Mart, his grin widening wickedly: Silver stuffed his change in his pocket, his metallic gray eyes staring at the amber irises before moodily falling half-lidded.

"Silver!" Gold exclaimed cheerfully.

Silver's shoulders sagged. "It is far too_ early_ to be dealing with you."

"You're just oozing with excitement. But anyway, it's been two whole days!" he arrogantly placed a hand on his chest, "Who wouldn't miss me by then?"

Silver regarded him with passive look, blinking boredly. "You really do not want me to answer that."

Gold shrugged, his grin never faltering. "Deep, deep, deep, _deep _down in that heart of yours, you totally miss me."

"You keep telling yourself that," Silver said, he turned on the heel of his foot to walk away from the nonsense shared between himself and Gold.

"Huh. Oh. W-Wait! Silver!"

Silver moaned wryly, he craned his neck and gave Gold his attention. He was caught in mid-surprise—even if his face expressed no such feature—as Gold directed his focus to the ground, his fingers twiddling fretfully.

The teen was shifting his weight uncomfortably; he then stuffed his nervously cold hands in the pockets of his red sweater. The ebony haired took a deep breath, his flushed face partially determined. "Silver, can you do me a favor…?"

* * *

><p>Gengar and Haunter were readily preparing their swing set for Gold's arrival in the later hours. Morty chuckled faintly at their restless excitement having their favorite playmate over for a visit, even if the visit lasts a measly hour: Gold's mother was a prickly woman with time; she was over protectively concerned if her son returned later than ten. He spent the morning hours in the gym—the challengers coming in few numbers every passing day, probably agonizing over Whitney's miltank defeating them for every attempt they present—and returned home shortly after battling the last trainer for the day.<p>

Gastly experimentally slid down the play set despite its gaseous form, Haunter went for the swing, and Gengar scrambled hurriedly for the open seat on the swing beside Haunter. Even after the years together the childish amusement had yet to wear off on his pokémon, not that he particularly minded. Rather the play set he purchased for the trio occupied most of their time, Morty was no longer at lost finding the remote control lodged between the air vents or his wardrobe entirely disappearing from his closet. Having prepared himself a warming bowl of soup, Morty relaxed comfortably on his old wicker chair, his eyes concentrated on the flashing images projected through his television screen.

"Gengar, change the channel," Morty said plainly.

"'Gar?" the dual ghost-poison type responded, as if saying, _'Why are you accusing me?'_

The blonde gym leader sighed, he then pointed his spoon at his pokémon. "I know you have it. Please hand the remote over or change the channel, either one works."

Gengar chose the latter, preferring Morty having to tolerate being remote-less but changed the channel as ordered to the news. With a disinterested expression, Gengar and Gastly went down the slide together, their laughs boisterous and contagious.

Morty snickered, he could only imagine what Gold will—

_"-not like I have a choice, do I?" the redhead stated curtly, not with intended malice but he was dimly smiling. "Go on."_

_Gold exhaled out of his nose, loudly clearing his throat. "So…yeah…uhh, just let me run through this, Silver. You can say whatever you want in the end."_

_When the redhead, Silver, nodded, Gold proceeded to fish out a sheet of paper from his pocket, from the nervous tension he endured—and perhaps to prolong blatantly confessing everything outright—his fingers pressed hard on its wrinkled corners. His eyes were scanning the surroundings, almost fearful to be heard, and shyly he tugged his hat down and brought the paper to cover his mouth and conceal his trembling lips weighing each word carefully._

_"So, umm…"_

_Silver snorted. "Do you really need to read off a paper?"_

_Gold pouted childishly, he muttered something inaudible before stuffing said paper back into the depths of his pocket. "You," he pointed to the redhead accusingly, his eyebrows knitting together, "be quiet."_

_Silver scoffed._

_"As I was saying!" Gold quipped, clearing his throat a second time. "I know this is going to be…beyond awkward but…" he clasped his hands together, his thumbs circling one another. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to see you as often, there are just some things that take up my time. I really wanted to turn up again soon! Well, unless you've been finding it annoying, then I'll just stop; no questions asked…Ahah…hah…"_

_Gold's wavering smile faltered completely, shoulders sagging, his amber eyes avoiding the scrutinizing gaze of unreadable gray orbs._

_"B-But besides that, what I really wanted to say…" Gold drew a sharp intake of air before heaving a rolling sigh, "I've had a crush on you for a really long time—can it even be considered a crush anymore for this long? I know, pathetic!—and I seriously want to thank you for everything, especially for the first time we ever met. Haha, I know. I'm such a handful! But, umm, yeah…Sorry if this grosses you out, but I…wanted you to know…"_

_Gold raised his head, eyes expectant for a response._

_Silver's face, neither moderately disturbed nor angered, was entirely neutral. He approached slowly, his hands resting on the teen's shoulder. The redhead voice's softened, "Gold…"_

He shook his head to clear the vision rendering him speechless. Of all the occurrences in the world he had to intrude in Gold's privacy, but invading such a space was not enough for him to mentally repent. No, he found himself screwing his eyes shut, trying to concentrate to return to the scene – he _needed _to know the outcome, for nine years he would assume—

Morty reopened his eyes slowly. Needed? _Assumed?_ He was normally a composed individual – Gold's affairs were his own, the scene had nothing that pertained to his personal life or would give him a valid reason to feel a form of agitation in his gut. Gold was free to do as he pleased, never did he once think he would ever be—or even feel—_possessive_. Haunter pressed its ghostly claws on its trainer's head, voicing its concern, Gastly and Gengar joined shortly after noticing their third member drifted away from their side. Gengar, naturally a smirking deviant, frowned and pulled on the sleeve of Morty's black turtleneck with its stubby fingers. Gastly circled the blonde man's head unhurriedly, somewhat relieved the purple eyes were acknowledging and following its gaseous form.

He offered the trio a tense smile to lessen their distress, silently pondering how he would weigh his words carefully to his pokémon: they adored the teen's company ever since he was a child: Gold was their playmate and sense of reason when their schemes would lead to severe repercussions. Morty enjoyed his space in his quiet home, never one for seeking connections outside of Ecruteak—excluding Goldenrod, Whitney would maim him if he stopped visiting her—several times he would accompany Eusine and his unrelenting endeavor to search the region for Suicune, but finally Morty became accustomed to Gold's frequent presence. The city's population derived from the elderly, it was a nice transition from its regular calmness: Gold was a ball of impatient energy; he livened up the city in the afternoon.

Having Gold confess to someone, and male, was rather…unexpected. Gold was sixteen: such feelings were bound to surface at his age. Morty would have never suspected the teenager harboring a crush when his schedule was preoccupied with his daily training and offering his assistance to the elderly couple's daycare. If everything went well, Gold would have little reason to return to Ecruteak.

Was the feeling welling up inside him loneliness? Furrowing his brows, Morty set the bowl of soup on the coffee table.

Gengar had apparently left during his musings, the ghost pokémon then returned hastily to its trainer's side shortly after securing a carton from the kitchen. It was only until he peered at his pokémon to notice its stubby hands were extended outwards, in its possession was a carton of sitrus berry juice he drank this morning. The expiration date on the carton was from last week.

He reasoned the feeling was probably indigestion.

* * *

><p>Silver's tone returned back to normal: cold, rigid, and almost unfeeling, "…that may have been one of the worst rehearsed love confessions I ever had to hear. You lack eye contact, a firm voice, and your stiffness helps none."<p>

Gold's ego deflated.

"You need to compose yourself, Gold. Stay calm—Arceus knows how difficult that must be, especially for you. Don't give me that look, you know it's true—unless you want to be reduced to a nervous wreck in front of that gym leader you adore so much," he groaned quietly, "and who knows when I will ever hear the end of it if worse comes to worse."

"It might end up terrible!" he realized, in a panicked frenzy he bit down on his fingernail, aimlessly walking in circles that eventually had Silver's hand leave his shoulder. "I am so _screwed_."

Silver diverted his attention from the ebony-haired breeder going through a mentally conflicting episode with himself.

"If anything," Silver abruptly turned on his heel, "I'll be in New Bark for several days."

A silence rolled by the pair, Gold's frown twitched upwards in a warm smile – Silver was such an open book to him, the traces of kindness lurking deep within the cold exterior was once a rare occurrence a few years back.

Now he was graced with reassuring words only Gold could decipher from Silver's cryptic comments: 'I'll be there for you.'

* * *

><p>"Mom, why did you have to be so short? Because of you I have no hope of growing," he argued on his end of the pokégear, grinding his teeth as his mother simply laughed at his woes. Togekiss descended on the elderly couple's daycare home, he quickly thanked the flying pokémon before knocking on their door.<p>

"Love, you might reach a growth spurt eventually. Is this about Silver's growth? Gold, sweetie, it's only a few centimeters! Speaking of Silver, when are you inviting him for dinner again?" she huffed impatiently.

"We are not having this conversation. Be back before ten like usual, later." He ended the call before she could intervene in her tangent of questions, having Silver for dinner was an hour full of humility – his mother adored confessing every embarrassing tidbit of his life. Silver would nod to indicate he was listening; he would snort mockingly when his mother stepped out momentarily from the dinner table to wash dishes, leaving Gold groaning pathetically.

The daycare man opened the door, cradling a baby cyndaquil in his free arm. "Ah, perfect timing."

"Yo," he greeted energetically, he wagged his finger in front of the infant quirking its head, puffing black smoke in an attempt to expel flames from its mouth. The baby cyndaquil reminded him of his fully evolved Typhlosion during its younger days, it was a nice change considering all the pokémon he cared for threatened his life with their developing poison or harmful spores. "Am I taking care of this little one?"

The daycare man nodded, even before he could respond and instruct Gold properly the teenager snatched the infant from his arms. "Sweet! C'mon little guy, you're gonna come with me," he regarded the daycare man with a cheerful snicker. "See ya in a few days, Gramps!"

He rested Cyndaquil in his hood, laughing when the infant kicked and giggled taking flight in the sky, its stubby arms trying to reach the puffy white clouds hovering overhead of its long snout.

The incoming city of Ecruteak had Gold exhale through his nose, his amber eyes determined to give it his all. "Alright, time to hope for the best."

* * *

><p>Gold skimmed through the note rumpled in his pocket for the last time today, he was going to allow whatever came naturally—even if he would be stuttering throughout his sentences or fumbling to pronounce a very simple word—if a rejection was Morty's answer, at the very least he would like to return for visits. He rang the doorbell once, waiting eagerly for someone to respond – Johto was becoming chillier during the night, he left too quickly before properly receiving Cyndaquil's pokéball, and waiting outside on the front porch was out of the question for the infant accompanying him that was still unable to produce a small burst of fire from its toothless maws. Gold began to weigh whether he should use the key in his pocket although everything he wanted to tell Morty urged him to maintain his better sense of judgment: it feel all too rushed if he just entered, spluttering his confession he has been saving for the past nine years.<p>

He waved at the giggling elderly women passing by to greet him, posing the same question, "Are you here for Morty?" He scratched his cheek absentmindedly, thankful the cooling temperature made it seem like his cheeks were reddening from the cold winds whishing past his face. He rubbed his hands together to feel the temporary warmth to linger on his frozen fingertips, his amber eyes brightening elatedly spotting the door cracking open. Gold rushed inside the warm house, he neatly hung his sling backpack on the wall hook rack, the baby fire pokémon breathing a sigh of relief feeling the warmth returning back inside its small body.

Out of the corner of his eyes he spotted the ghost trio whispering amongst themselves. "Hey guys!" he greeted cheerfully. As Gold turned his body to face him his wide smile twitched downwards. "What's wrong?"

The trio dashed for Gold, causing him to flinch reflexively.

Gengar tugged the hem of Gold's sweater, burying its face in the fabric, Haunter rested its ghostly head on the teen's shoulder, and Gastly hovered slowly over Gold's face, his face wrinkling from the stench of the purple smog. They all sobbed simultaneously, loudly and obnoxiously.

He was getting worried, it was unlike them to be upset. Had Morty disappeared? Had their play set got trashed? The amber-eyed trainer forced a reassuring smile, his voice shaky and unnerving. "G-Guys, wh-what's going on…?"

There was no response from any of the three saddened ghost pokémon, not that he should have expected a remark from creatures only capable of speaking their dialect, not human speech. He couldn't storm through the house when his longtime playmates were crying all over his clothes, leaving dampened spots on his sweater. Cyndaquil began to sob loudly after its initial alarm from the loud racket, it kicked and moved violently inside the white hood.

Morty appeared in the hallway, following the sound of the uproar gathered in a single place. Ever since he explained the circumstances to his pokémon and his final decision, the trio grew became eerily quiet throughout the day, all his hidden items were returned to their proper places without having to be asked. The cabinet in the hallway stored the three pokéballs; he only used it when his pokémon created havoc outside or inside the gym, never in their proper home. The trio was reclaimed by the red beam storing them inside the small capsules without warning, Morty expected to be given the cold shoulder after they were released—

Gold scooped Cyndaquil from his hood, its loud sobs reduced to squeaky hiccups. Once everything settled into an uncomfortable silence, Cyndaquil quirked its head, its stubby arms pointing at the gym leader gazing at the teenage trainer-breeder with an unreadable expression. Unsure whether to wait for the blonde to speak first, Gold seized the initiative to break the overwhelming choking silence.

"What-What's going on? I've never seen them act like that," he said softly. It was true: in all the nine years he yet to witness the ghostly trio break into tears, disappointed sure, _but never this upset._

Gold would never admit from his steady composure he was nervous beyond words, he continued to hold Cyndaquil in place with one arm, his free hand stuffed inside his pocket—his digits turning as cold as the dead from the uneasiness, a shiver running down his spine feeling the numbing sensation of the key brushing against his palm—his thoughts were running amok, his heart hammering in his chest.

"Mor-"

"You should leave."

Gold flinched; he blinked, his expression befuddled and urging him to clarify. Surely he heard wrong.

Morty rubbed the bridge of his nose, eyes closed to avoid the saddened amber eyes evidently hurt. _Why should he be?_

Trying again was harder, he wanted to raise his voice to have the message clear as day in the teen's head – he sighed through his nose: he wouldn't possibly shout. The composed gym leader of Ecruteak never raised his voice, not even to ghost trio that created mischief left and right, not even when Gold dampened his clothes with urine as a small child…

"Please leave," he muttered calmly, his voice cold but soothingly collected. "You must have better things to do. I really don't need a nuisance-" finally he looked up, purple eyes reopening and widening as large saucers. _Nuisance? _That wasn't him; Morty absolutely _did not _mean to have that word slip out of his mouth. Arms returning to his sides, the guilt tore him completely…never had he thought of Gold as a nuisance,

_Never._

The outcome of the ordeal was for Gold to leave his home. There was something known about Gold: besides his childhood trauma encountering a hypno, he hardly ever cried. The ebony haired trainer-breeder was known for his cheeriness, his terrible habit gambling his entire allowance's worth at Goldenrod's Game Corner, his friendly attitude, his natural loudness,

his smile.

Cyndaquil felt some moist droplets fall on its snout, it squeaked from the rapid motion of its breeder taking a small key out from his pocket and carelessly tossing it on the floor with an uncontrolled anger. His chest was heaving, his nostrils flaring, feeling a mingled amount of disappointment and relief he never had to recite the note he painstakingly memorized…it would just hurt all the much more. "I'll leave," he said quickly, snatching his sling backpack from the hook, Gold bit down his lower lip to ignore the warm streaks of tears running down his cheeks.

* * *

><p>Weavile nibbled on the baring fruits of a berry tree from the grassy field of Cherrygrove to New Bark, Silver observed his pokémon with a blank expression, patiently waiting for his partner to finish eating. Having no incoming calls from Gold's pokégear, Silver assumed his friend's poor performance rehearsing every line in the shabby letter may have lead to greater outcome like eventually receiving calls that would entail of a bubbly Gold feeding him the mush about the relationship. The peace was interrupted by the vibration of the pokégear clutched in his hand, the screen flashing Gold's name and its equally obnoxious ringtone the amber-eyed teen downloaded.<p>

It rather disturbing Gold's laugh was so dead of emotions, he sounded ill, the first few words out of his mouth was an excuse—as he could tell Gold became like an open book to him in the past years, the slightest lie would never go undetected—for failing to call, then another dead laugh. More rambling. More dead laughter.

Something was wrong and Silver knew it. He beckoned his pokémon with a finger, gray eyes narrowing on the sight of brown and white dots in the distance: the houses and the windmills that made the small town.

An oddish poked its head from a shrub, stealing a glance at Weavile before hurriedly heading to the direction of New Bark.

The brief second he heard Gold sniffle the mucus building up in his nose, he ruled out the possibility of an illness or even a little cold. Something had happened in Ecruteak and it took only until a week later Gold felt it was right to call.

Silver felt absolutely murderous.

* * *

><p>The elderly couples flocking Ecruteak had passed him several times before he opened the gym in the morning, their pale faces frowning, asking for the whereabouts of town's literal ball of sunshine and energy. How was he going to explain to the tender aged citizens of Ecruteak he wrongfully hurt Gold's feelings? That they would never see the loudmouth teenager's flashing smiles or causing destruction when accompanied by his ghostly playmates? Having no explanation to offer the elderly, he would shrug, then inform them Gold was occupied at Goldenrod's Game Corner or the daycare with the other newborn pokémon.<p>

He closed the gym for the afternoon, his pokémon stored in their pokéballs, and turned on his heel to return home. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

Except today, it was the night of the—

He stopped midway, peering at the redhead in his trail—he hid his honest surprise, to think he would ever encounter the teenager Gold confessed to—accompanied by a weavile.

Silver briefly examined the gym leader, trying to distinguish the man's most prominent features that attracted Gold. Seeing none, the redhead smirked and said offhandedly, "Weavile's claws are sharp enough to sever heads, care to see?"

Morty blinked, regarding the redhead with a look of incredulity. "Are you threatening a gym leader?"

"Are you testing my patience?" Silver countered.

Despite having a weavile sharpening its claws in Morty's presence intentionally, the blonde resisted the urge to chuckle. _At least Gold has interesting taste._

* * *

><p>Togekiss droned out the sounds of its trainer prolonged shouts.<p>

"That prick! I can't believe he put me to sleep with an oddish's sleeping powder. He was planning it, he had to, he doesn't even own a friggin' oddish!" he groaned, to ease the anger reddening his face he distractingly tickled Cyndaquil's plump underbelly. He hadn't even shown his face at the daycare in the past week to report the pokémon's condition, he was certain he was going to earn himself a good earful of the daycare couple's enraged lecture. Home was unbearable with his mother constantly poking her head in his room, tempting him with his favorite treats to lighten his awful mood.

He was upset but he would never submit to the luring sweets that he would gorge himself with until he got sick.

Okay, he did eat the cookies she brought for him. The sugar rush was an absolute_ need _to train Cyndaquil.

It was his fault he fell for Silver's trap—he should have been more reserved and cautious—but Gold really couldn't resort to accusing Silver of anything when his redheaded friend was eating his mother's pasta, terrifyingly comfortable on the large snorlax beanbag chair. How much time has elapsed? Knowing Silver, he would be seeking blood since he smiled—which was a cringing and terrifying sight regardless—so coldly when Gold had finally told him what occurred in Ecruteak. Then again, Silver couldn't possibly have the potential to hurt someone…

"Go faster, Togekiss!" he pleaded loudly; he leaned closer to his pokémon's round body to brace for the speedy flight.

* * *

><p>The time zone difference from New Bark to Ecruteak was an overwhelming gap, what could have been the afternoon in his rural hometown was a nightfall in Ecruteak, the only visibility to distinguish the city below was the city's glowing street lamps. His dispirited mood had him forget about the festivity held in the quiet city, a few meters away from the Burned Tower was a small pond the elderly gathered to see the ghost pokémon ignite the flames of their will-o-wisp – coordinated by Morty, of course. The blonde gym leader would oversee the event, his gastly would invite the other ghost pokémon to give the city a yearly presentation before the winter struck the houses with mounds of snow, that is if the ghost pokémon were willing. If not, Gastly was capable of performing by itself and its two partners.<p>

He breathed out. It was cold enough to see his breath.

He left Cyndaquil in his hood, this time he covered the lower half of the infant's body with a warm blanket, adding weight enough to tighten around his neck if Cyndaquil moved forward. He stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his sweater, shivering from the breeze rushing past his exposed legs. _It was so warm at home…_ Gold's eyes searched the area frantically; he could spot the citizens shivering from the cold despite the blanket they draped over their shoulders: Morty would have never allowed the crowd to have to wait in such a chilling night, he was organized with his time to be at the event accordingly.

Togekiss flew over the thick mass of trees of obscuring most of the grassy land below, in the end he recalled Togekiss in its pokéball to thoroughly search the grassy terrain for his friend or Morty. Gold frowned uneasily, he had never gotten over his fear of the specific part of the field during the night, if anything he avoided it like a plague.

His heart sunk.

A hypno appeared from the trees, its squinted eyes perking upward deviously, he was sure if the pokémon had a mouth it would be licking its lips already. The fear overpowered him, he felt too petrified to move his legs in order to run for dear life. The teen observed the pokémon steadily, captivated by the pendulum swaying in its hypnotizing lull, not even the calls of the cyndaquil resting in his hood could return his mind back to reality.

Hypno beckoned its meal with a finger; its meal complied as planned.

"Gengar, shadow ball!"

"Honchkrow, use pursuit!"

The voices faded like a whirling wind, a pokémon's cry echoed loudly through his head, the familiar voices calling orders became a low-hushed whisper as Gold regained his consciousness from the possession of the hypno's hypnotic power. He felt weakened having his mind almost lost; startled he encountered a hypno twice in his life. He wanted to intervene—although dazed in his judgment—to ensure Silver was not out for blood of a certain blonde gym leader.

He stumbled backwards, limbs haphazardly spread. Cyndaquil safely kicked off the blanket and scurried away to alert the gym leader and the redhead.

Gold yielded to the demand for sleep on the barren green land.

* * *

><p>Silver had left him in Ecruteak all alone.<p>

Cyndaquil returned inside the safety of its temporary home in Gold's hood, Gold arose from the chair he slept on, he yawned loudly, stretching the aches in his back and shoulders from resting on the uncomfortable rickety aged chair. He vision could not distinguish his surroundings, his setting covered in the blackened night obscuring the objects in what he assumed to be a room – he could hear the excited chatter outside, the situated angle of the lone window prevented him searching the cause of his noise. He shivered at the chilling weather greeting him with a soft smack of the wind carrying the curtains forward, the cloth pressing and swaying on his face before slipping off the bridge of his nose. Feeling the pokéballs clattering in his pocket for every cautious step he took, he ran his hand through the walls to brush against the light switch or the door to the isolated room, the gelid feel of a metal knob had him stop in his tracks, fingers firmly grasping the knob to rotate the metal piece.

The hallway structure felt eerily familiar to Gold, he shrugged the notion away from his mind, concentrated finding the light switch of the hallway to safely ascend down the stairs he felt was nearing. Cyndaquil yawned quietly, startled by its pitch black surroundings a flame flickered from its back, a warming feeling tickling the back of Gold's neck. Realization dawned hastily, with one hand he snatched the infant from his hood, his other hand patting the burning material in a frenzied panic. Breathing a sigh of relief, he congratulated the small fire-mouse for successfully igniting its luminous red-orange flames—not at all bothered his hood and skin could have been burned—he extended his arms to bring the pokémon forward, a safe distance so his face had no direct contact with the flames.

Gold arrived to the living room, scanning the room if familiarity of the walkway structure was alike to what-

The play set.

He was in Morty's house.

Gold restlessly observed the play set gathering a small layer of dust. The ghostly trio would have endless amount of amusement on it, he could hardly begin to fathom the mere idea they would abandon their play set to such a condition, while he was around they hardly ever left—

_When I was welcomed here…_

The twitch of his smile faltered, deflating immediately like a balloon when he recalled having Togekiss as a means of flight transportation. He was saved by hypno, he was allowed to rest in the house, surely Morty would no longer want his presence around him since the last incident. As much as he wanted to avoid approaching the gym leader, he needed to at least express his gratitude for saving him, as well as Silver whenever he wandered near New Bark.

Bolting the door behind him, Gold followed the commotion in the normally quiet city, his amber eyes widening at the scene: little wispy flames floated in the air, the ghostly trio each taking their roles for the ceremonial night. Gastly hovered over the pond, casting its will-o-wisp on the pond, Gengar's eyes glowed brightly harnessing the power of the flames, converting their form in golden orbs—outlined bright in white as a protective layer to prevents burns—and Haunter using its ominous wind attack to scatter the brightly colored orbs around the elderly hooting excitedly, their aged hands extending to touch the falling orbed flames.

Gold blinked; surprised he completely forgot the festivity celebrated in the city. As a child he often tried to touch the orbs as if they were snowflakes, his cheeriness would normalize feeling the warming exertion of the orbed flames in his palms, their brightly glowing hues never failing to bring a smile to his childish face. Cyndaquil's flames died down, allowing Gold to return the fire type pokémon in his hood, his focus disturbed by the townspeople welcoming him with warming hugs and smiles. Their endless talks questioned his absent presence throughout the long week, he reassured them with a strained smile, eyes frantically searching for Morty within the crowd somewhere.

He promised the elderly townspeople he would visit again, but suppressed the urge to laugh coldly: he would never return to this city, not when Morty chose not to rekindle their rela—friendsh—_companionship_.

_We really are nothing to each other._

Cyndaquil squealed elatedly, its small stubby arms embracing the glowing orb in its hold. It opened its mouth, bringing the orb to its maws.

"Now, now," Gold warned, he plucked the orb from the pokémon's hold. "This is not for eating; it'll ruin your appetite." _Or curse you. Arceus, I don't even know._

Flicking the orb to the ground, Gold's breath hitched spotting Morty standing beside the pond, his gleaming purple eyes staring upright at the starry-night sky.

Gold approached from behind, admiring the sight of Morty contently watching the falling will-o-wisp in his view.

"'Quill?"

Morty's body stiffened, looked around shortly, then his gaze settled on Gold. The gym leader bit down on his bottom lip unconsciously, the faintest flickers of his expression evidently suggesting his uneasiness, weighing every word accordingly to avoid the disturbance of the boisterous crowd.

"You're awake," he noted unnecessarily, quickly he mended his remark. "Hypno must have not caused you any harm, that is…good."

"Yeah, I guess it is." he muttered quietly, his cheeks becoming pink from the cold and the warming joy: he finally had the chance to speak to _Morty_ after such a long time. "Uhm, thanks for saving me…again."

Morty nodded, neither encouraging nor discouraging the continuation of their conversation. The pair allowed the silence to swallow their anxiety, the flames falling like the snowfall of Johto's winter; several townspeople retreated slowly into their homes, unable to withstand the chilling cold creeping on their legs and fingers. A wave of worriment snapped Gold back to reality: with the mass slowly decreasing in numbers, Morty would eventually return to his home too.

The teen's throat felt constricted, prickling in pain to retain the words wanting to form out of his mouth.

The people lingering near the pond bothered Gold; there were too many distractions, _witnesses_ if he happened to raise his voice prying an explanation from the ghost-using gym leader.

He yanked the hem of Morty's scarf, caring less whether his forceful tug either heightened Morty's awareness he was being pulled behind an empty house—away from view of the spectators—or gasping for breath throughout his useless endeavor. Morty pressed his back on the house, loosening the tightened scarf to alleviate the lingering painful twitch being dragged so violently.

"What did I do wrong?" It was more like a pleading, despairing demand rather than a question. Ignoring how his voice faltered, Gold paused thoughtfully. His sun-kissed skin drained of color; he looked away as he began to slowly conclude to the blonde's reasoning.

"You hate me," Gold acknowledged shakily, his mouth fumbling on his words. "You hate me and I'm a bother…aren't I?"

And there was the problem.

Morty could have clarified to Gold that he could never even imagine the prospect of loathing the teen's presence; he brought life to the city, to the elderly citizens occupying Ecruteak, and created a newfound amusement than suffering every passing day from his ordinary routine. How could he ever 'hate' a person that brought his ghostly pokémon endless amount of entertainment, to even become their playmate for the endless nine years? Gold was spontaneous, energetic – everything the composed gym leader with the calm persona was not. To keep the smile budding on the teen's face he was willing to withhold his selfish desire to monopolize—goodness, should he even call it that?—the ebony-haired trainer-breeder for himself. He refused Gold's visit, his vision made it apparent Gold returned to Ecruteak out of a mere obligation.

An obligation from their long nine years: if Gold had suddenly stopped when he was known for arriving frequently, he would later be weighed with guilt, it would no longer be from his whim to be part of Morty's and the ghost trio's company. Having Gold no longer staying in home would have the teen seize the opportunity to recollect himself, his time that he would have spent in Ecruteak would become time spent with the snarky redhead teenager that threatened him earlier during the day, their polar personalities seemed—in an unworldly perspective—ideal for each other. He could follow his routine once again, undisturbed by an energetic Gold turning up in the morning or in the dead of night, sporting his welcoming smile everyone adored.

_"I'm sorry I haven't been able to see you as often, there are just some things that take up my time."_

It was for the best.

"Why does my opinion bother you?" Morty asked, assuring his voice was leveled.

Gold finally returned his focus to the gym leader. His body visibly stiffened, his lips slightly parted. "So you really do…I-"

Morty contemplated on continuing the charade – it was outright cruel but he was not going to subject himself as being Gold's burden either.

"I'll search for an abra, you'll get home much quicker. Where do you want to be teleported to? Your mother's?" Morty heaved a sigh, unable to suppress the suggestion of the latter option to Gold. "Or wherever your friend is?"

Gold moodily twiddled with his fingers, not perturbed in the slightest Silver would be considered the alternative. "Not like I have any other choice. I don't even know where Silver is, he might not answer me if I called him."

_Of course Gold would seek comfort in him._

Considering this will completely sever their connection, Morty decided to go against his judgment to question the boy unmistakably sulking.

"How are you not aware where your lover would be?" Morty inwardly cringed; the word 'lover' had an awful taste in his mouth.

However, instead of expecting an answer from the amber-eyed teenager he was greeted with Gold's obvious flicker of mingled disbelief and disgust. Gold raised his hands, crinkling them in mock rage. "How could you," he drawled slowly and melodramatically, "call my best friend my lover? He is just—we're not—that will never happen in this_ lifetime_. He complains about getting migraines around me all the time—which aren't true by the way, I totally make his week after paying him a visit if he's ever around—and Silver will _never_ swing that way. Actually, I'm not sure. Or he could be…what's it called again…? Aromantic or something?"

Morty blinked, completely dumbfounded by Gold's passionate rambling.

"We've been friends for a long time, I tell him everything. He's not open though but he tells me stuff too. I'm pretty sure Silver would tell me if he had a crush on anybody though…or not. Ehh, I really don't know. B-But that doesn't mean he likes me, I'm positive about this one at least! Arceus, it would be pretty awkward if he liked me…" he trailed off for a brief moment, hands returning to his sides, then Gold shook his head slightly to regain the focus of his inane chattering. "Point is we are _definitely_ not together. Best friends, not bo-boy…boyfriends. Ugh, Morty, where in the world could you have ever come up with something so—so _impossible?_"

A few seconds of silence past the two.

"You were confessing to your friend in the forest. From a paper?" he quickly amended his remark, "It wasn't my intention to pry, the vision came to me unannounced."

Gold buried his reddening face in his hands, voice faintly muffled in his conflicting brooding. "_Y_ou didn't see that. Please tell me you didn't. Oh my Arceus, _please_ tell me you're_ lying_."

No response, just a quizzical blink.

"You're not lying…" Gold whined sourly, he lifted his head to stare intently into the dark, purple irises. "Morty, you're an idiot. That wasn't for Silver, I was _rehearsing._ I asked Silver to listen to me going over it, he told me I was doing a crummy job in the end and kinda gave me advice to be a little calmer."

Morty quirked a brow. "Rehearsing?"

"So you didn't see who it was meant for," he sighed depressingly. It was his last night with Morty, regardless of their conversation Morty's resentment still holds a place in Gold's pained, hammering heart. All things considered, he really had nothing left to lose. Aware of the inevitable rejection, Gold would return with a forlorn expression that will surely last several months, all that is left to distract his expected heartbreak would be training Cyndaquil—resting soundly in his hood—and his best friend's occasional visits.

The warming sensation crept on his ears; curse him for easily falling prey to the unnerving embarrassment:

"That was meant for you, Morty. Not like it matters anymore, huh? Don't worry about me, I'll get Togekiss to send me home." As he intended, Gold called the pokémon from its ball, its expression rather cranky from the demanding orders in a single day. Briefly offering his apology, he soothingly ran his hand on the creature's head. "Mind taking me home? We're…pretty much done here."

Gold was his, his heart was his, and he harbored no affections for the redhead—

Togekiss nodded.

His lifted his gaze from the white creature expanding its wings, fluttering them to stretch its tired muscles from the earlier flight. Quirking his head, Gold scratched his cheek, grinning lopsidedly – it took every cell in his body to fight back his watering eyes, he refused to break into tears a second time.

He was Gold, not some crybaby.

"Well, umm…later Mor—I mean…_goodbye_."

The teen was determined leaving with some form of dignity intact.

—he had nothing left to make him feel reluctant about touching Gold. Would it have been different if he had never seen the vision? To feel this unthinkable possession about anyone, least of all Gold? It was a dark, thorny feeling in his gut. Gold was not leaving him, Morty would never allow it.

"Gold, wait."

Gold tensed, slowly he shook his head. "I rather not listen to some possible mean backla-"

Being pulled forward was not what Gold was expecting as some hateful backlash, he expected he would be receiving insults or having his crush bare him a look of disgust.

This backlash was unexpected but richly satisfying: in his own state of fretting panic Gold lowered his direct eye contact for a brief second—Togekiss sharply jumped a step back, giving the pair their space—not expecting his shoulders to be grasped, to be pulled forward, for his hands raised up instinctively to only rest on the warm fabric on the gym leader's black turtleneck. The man of his dreams—the one person who tolerated him most as a kid, who watched 'the-boy-who-ran-around-a-household-in-embarrassing-pikachu printed underwear' grow up—was definitely _his._

There was no underlying mistake; the rough kiss had bruised Gold's bottom lip, the taste of iron invading his taste buds,

and it didn't matter.

Gold, as cheeky as he was, was a nervous wreck having Morty as his nine-year crush – he was no genius at love, he wasn't even sure if he could be considered a good kisser for Morty. Feeling slightly self-conscious and inexperienced, Gold pried himself away from Morty, his chest heaving to earn a plentiful breathe of air. Despite the grandeur of the situation, Gold meekly asked breathlessly, "You…like me?"

Gengar, Haunter, and Gastly returned in brighter moods. Gastly hovered obliviously around Gold, their wide snickers pleased to see the return of their longtime playmate. Cyndaquil woke up, ogling the ghost pokémon floating around curiously, its stubby arms extending outwards to touch the gaseous ghost-ball pokémon, and the rest fell into a short fit of hearty giggles. When Gold's laughter died down he blinked, feeling strange warmth enveloping his hand.

Peering upwards, Morty flashed a warming smile, his hand closing around Gold's.

"I suppose I do," he said finally. Giving an encouraging pull forward, Morty lead Gold into his home.

* * *

><p>By the next morning Gold was welcomed by the voice of his mother on the line.<p>

"Young man, where have you _been?_ You had me worried sick! No call, no nothing! My poor old age can't handle this childish rebellion; have you no consideration for your mother? Oho, when you get home, it'll be chores for a week_. _No, a _month! _And don't you think that's all, Gold-"

Morty entered the living room, one hand resting in his pocket, eyeing the teen droning out the loud shriek over his pokégear with a bored expression, rather entertained watching the ghostly trio toy with the young cyndaquil. Noticing the other presence in the room—whilst making a yapping motion with his hand—Gold regarded him with a nod, eager to see his new lover awake.

"Who is it?" the blonde asked him quietly.

Gold rolled his eyes, mouthing the words 'my mom.'

"I could talk to her," he suggested weakly: it was his fault he kept Gold for himself the entire night. The teen's response was a shake of the head, as if to say, 'Don't worry, I got this.'

"Yes, yes. I get it. I'll get to those chores when I get home. Love you too. Uh-huh, later mom." Prying the device away from his ear, he glared at his pokégear bitterly. "She is such a nag in the mornings. If I don't get to those chores she'll bug me all day."

Morty chuckled.

"What time are you coming back? I'll get my stuff whenever you're done, I'll wait in front."

Sitting comfortably beside Gold, his free arm wrapped over the teen's shoulder affectionately, he dipped his head near his lover's ear, unveiling the key he flashed out from his pocket,

"You don't have to wait."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Happy Friday the thirteenth! It's almost befitting for a story that revolves around a character that has pokémon known for being unlucky/ominous/natural pranksters. But that does it. Truth be told, I was getting tired typing. :V Finally a pairing of this is posted, so I'm content. (Sorry for the wait, I was stuck working on my school assignments! It's actually by chance I updated on this day specifically;;) I know I might accidentally overlook a mistake, so my apologies for spotted errors. :x

_**PICTURE INFLUENCE**_**S**:  
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>i41(dot)tinypic(dot)comrhs76f(dot)jpg  
>i41(dot)tinypic(dot)com2lm79xi(dot)jpg  
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This length for a simple planned one-shot is some bull. I had no intention having this agonizingly long. Lawl. And I almost crammed this in one entire one-shot. Pfft :'D

And truthfully, I have a one-shot sequel planned for this in my head. It's bugging me for the past few nights, urging me to type it on FF like crazy. Maybe I'll get to it when I stop procrastinating. c: Ahem, the rating for the -possible- sequel will definitely be 'M.' Might as well get some more practice while I'm at it.

Thanks to all those that faved/alerted/reviewed~! :)


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